


Becoming

by winterisakiller (sparkinside)



Series: Fatherhood - A Tom Hiddleston series [2]
Category: British Actor RPF, Tom Hiddleston - Fandom
Genre: Cross-Posted on Tumblr, Father-Son Relationship, Fatherhood, Gen, Guilt, Questioning oneself
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-30
Updated: 2020-06-18
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:54:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 18,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23931127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sparkinside/pseuds/winterisakiller
Summary: Learning about his son was only just the start of the story. As Tom Hiddleston struggles to adapt to this sudden change in his life, he comes to learn that becoming a father might be the biggest role he’d ever taken on.
Series: Fatherhood - A Tom Hiddleston series [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1721581
Comments: 22
Kudos: 19





	1. ONE

**Author's Note:**

> This story came about because I knew there was still so much about Tom and his son that I wanted to explore. I fully intended this to be a quick flash forward into their lives, a snapshot if you will....They had other ideas and so here we are. This is technically all one story but has been broken down into parts to make the reading easier. 
> 
> Thanks so much first and foremost to @ciaodarknessmyheart who has dealt with me throwing all of these ideas at her and has helped shape them into something coherent and wonderful. 
> 
> Thanks as well to @tinchentitri who also helped provide wonderful insight.
> 
> Hope you all enjoy!

[ ](https://ibb.co/C6pNmLT)

Tom Hiddleston couldn’t seem to keep himself from pacing around the living room, couldn’t seem to get a lid on the anxiety that has been coursing through him for the better part of the last few days. In theory he’d known this was something that would happen and that it was, in fact, a good thing. But knowing that intellectually and understanding it emotionally were two vastly different things.

The year and a half that had passed since he’d learned of Jaime brought such upheaval to the usual controlled chaos of his life. In the past eighteen months he’d lost the woman he knew he would always love permanently and in the same breath gained a child, their child. Jaime was a sturdy and curious lad, almost six now and so much like his mother.

It was still difficult at times for Tom to watch him and see the spark he’d always loved shining through the boy. He’d made such a mess of things before, had missed out on so much. And that fear had plagued him each step of the way he’d taken to building a relationship with his son. For months he’d simply been “mummy’s friend Tom” or “Uncle Tom”. He spent as much time as he could with the boy, getting to know him and in turn letting the boy become comfortable. All under the watchful and hesitant eyes of Keira Michaelson.

Jaime had taken to him quickly, curious about this new person that had stumbled into his life. But cautious, he watched Tom with wide eyes offering him the use of his toys and losing himself in the program on television. That first afternoon had been awkward and tense and wonderful. Jaime seemed both amused and wary of him and watched him as though he was someone he had seen before but couldn’t seem to place. Tom had done his best to keep his emotions in check, not wanting to scare the boy. He’d left that afternoon and called Luke from the relative safety of his hotel room.

To say his publicist was shocked at this unexpected and potentially dangerous development in his client’s life would have been a major understatement. Luke had spent the better part of twenty minutes screaming and cursing at Tom while simultaneously demanding answers. It had been a tense, terse conversation and had it been anyone but Luke, he would have ended it abruptly and without question. But even in his confused, angry grief, Tom knew Luke was doing this for his benefit. The question of the validity of Eliza’s claim of paternity was shot down even before it had finished leaving Luke’s lips.

“He is mine, Luke. There is absolutely no question about that.”

“I’m glad you feel that way, Tom, but legally you need to know you have a leg to stand on should you want to take this farther.”

He knew Luke was right and that it was the sensible thing to do, especially if he wanted to keep himself in Jaime’s life. If he had the paperwork to prove he was Jaime’s father, if there was irrefutable evidence, no one could dare question his involvement. Keira couldn’t keep the boy from him. Not that he thought she ever would…She may not like him, may never like him, but she wasn’t heartless. Careful and cautious, without question, but never heartless. But the idea of questioning whether or not the boy who’d already burrowed his way into Tom’s heart was his left a sour taste in his mouth.

His conversation with his mother had been just as painful. Diana was a proud woman and loved her children fiercely. She’d taken the end of his relationship with Eliza hard, if only for the fact that she knew deep down it wasn’t what Tom had truly wanted. And she’d known, just as certainly, that her boy was stubborn as the day was long and nothing save his own doing would ever change his mind. Learning of not only Eliza’s passing but of the fact she had another grandchild she hadn’t known about had floored his usually unshakable mother. She had been torn between her own angry confusion and the pain of experiencing her only son’s devastating grief and being unable to do a thing to ease it.

Once it became clear that Tom intended to be involved, as much as he was able, in the boy’s life, Diana had allowed herself to bombard him with question after question. How had this happened? Why hadn’t he known? Had he known but never said? What was the boy like? Did he know who Tom was to him?

Tom had answered as honestly as he could with his head still swimming. There was still so much he didn’t know. So much he had to learn and it terrified him. At some point he had broken down and admitted just how scared he was. How terrified he was that he couldn’t be the kind of parent Jaime needed. How he barely had his own life together so how could he possibly expect to care for someone else who would need so much of him?

“What if I’m not good enough, mum?”

Diana had sighed. “Tom, my boy, that is what it means to be a parent. You are never going to feel ready, never going to be sure. But you will do it anyway because you have to. Because you can’t let yourself do anything but be the best parent you can be.”

Things were rocky at first.

At times Tom felt as though he were walking on eggshells around Jaime and around Keira. It was clear Jaime was close with his grandmother, especially now that his mother was gone, and while he had taken to Tom, it was obvious whose company he preferred. It had hurt at first, the knowledge that he was, for now, a side character in his son’s life. But he understood the rationale for it. Understood Keira’s hesitancy, even if it grated.

But as they grew to know one another, Tom could see the trust blooming in Jaime’s eyes. He seemed to look forward to the afternoons Tom spent with him and later to the phone calls that became part of his nightly routine. The way Jaime’s face would light up when he walked through the door tugged at something deep inside of him. Something he doubted he would ever be able to put accurately into words.

The real test came when life and obligation came calling. He had used all the bereavement leave he had and the studio began to breathe down his neck about returning. The film was half finished and though that shot around him as much as they were able, his presence on set was not only necessary but demanded. Tom had done his best to explain to Jaime but it hadn’t stopped the tears or the confusion. And then he’d been on a plane flying away from the one place he wanted to be.

Jaime hadn’t understood why Tom missed their afternoon play date and why he hadn’t called before bed to wish Jaime goodnight. He’d been sullen and tearful when Tom had finally managed to settle nearly half a world away and call the following morning, asking if Uncle Tom was leaving him like mummy had. It had taken everything in Tom not to fall apart, not to pack up and fly back to the UK consequences and career be damned. Instead, he’d swallowed against the lump in his throat and explained as best he could that he was coming back, this was a temporary thing and that sometimes adults had to do things they didn’t want to do. 

The following few days were a test. Jaime had initially refused the video calls Tom made and when he’d accepted them, spent most of his time with his head buried in his grandmother’s shirt. Tom could feel the tension radiating from Keira through the screen. And again and again he found himself questioning the right he had in Jaime’s life. How was it fair to try to form a bond with the boy when he couldn’t guarantee he’d be there?

Guilt ate steadily at him and Tom found himself incredibly short with just about everyone on set. He snapped and snarked at any and every one, missing marks and flubbing lines he had known by rote just weeks before. It had taken the director pulling him to the side and telling him in no uncertain terms that his behavior was unprofessional and unacceptable and that if he could not get himself together this would be where they parted ways for Tom to see the damage he was inflicting. He’d asked for the rest of the day off to clear his head and had spent it in his hotel room trying desperately to gain control of himself.

This wasn’t like him, wasn’t how he’d ever wanted to be. But fuck if he knew what to do to get himself back in check. Unable to stand the suffocating closeness of the hotel room, Tom found himself wandering the beach a few blocks down in a desperate attempt to clear his mind. It was unseasonably cool and the beach mostly empty. He’d taken to running along the beach in the mornings…Or had before his life had turned on its head.

Running had always brought a sense of calm to him. Everything seemed easier somehow when his feet pounded against the earth. But with the way his mind had been, running was the last thing he could force himself to do. And without that outlet...

God, maybe he was losing his mind. Thinking he could do this; could be what the world demanded of him and be what Jaime needed him to be. He’d spent so many years running full force at a goal that he never seemed to reach; always looking for the next challenge, the next role. And often to the determent of those around him and in some ways to himself. There were so many friends he’d lost touch with, so many simple things he’d missed (birthdays, weddings, holidays), so many things he’d let fall by the wayside in his quest to be better. To do more.

He’d spent the better part of his adult life running that he was terrified he’d forgotten was it was like to stand still. He’d been a terrible friend, terrible brother, terrible son. How could he be anything but a terrible father? And didn’t Jaime deserve more? Deserve better?

God, he didn’t know.

Tom wasn’t certain how long he’d sat on that beach, staring at the ocean but seeing nothing. A light rain had started to fall, the shiver it sent through him shocking Tom back into himself. He pushed himself to his feet and began the slow trek back towards the hotel. The sun, which had been weak to begin with, had hidden itself behind the mass of roiling grey clouds. It would storm soon.

He made it back to the hotel just as the storm broke and watched the sheets of rain soaking the car park as he made his way through the lobby and back to his room. The air con made him shiver and he knew that getting out of his damp clothes into something dry was a necessity if he didn’t want to add sick on top of his growing list of uncouth behavior.

The first thing his eyes fell upon as he shoved the door to his room closed behind him was his mobile laying on the bed. He’d left it in his haste to simply get out and as the screen lit up to signal the arrival of a new message, Tom caught sight of a missed FaceTime call. A quick glance at his watch and a longer moment working the time difference out in his head, told him it was most likely Keira calling with Jaime. His nightly bedtime call and he’d missed it.

He sank onto the bed, letting the guilt and self-loathing course through him. Another disappointment, another let down. He rubbed his eyes viciously with his hands, trying desperately to ignore the ache in his chest at the thought of letting Jaime down once more. Of failing at the last thing Eliza had asked of him. Jaime deserved so much better.

He nearly jumped out of his skin as the mobile by his side erupted in noise. Confused, it took Tom several moments to recognize the sound for what it was; an incoming FaceTime call. He sat bolt upright, grabbing the phone and answering the call without any conscious thought.

A bleary-eyed Jaime filled his screen and Tom fought to control his breathing. “Hello, Jaime lad.”

“Uncle Tom, you didn’t answer before. I thought you forgot.”

Tom swallowed against the lump in his throat, his voice catching as he choked out. “I’m sorry, I was outside and like a silly bugger forgot to take the phone with me. I would never forget our nighttime call.”

Jaime’s face brightened and for the first time in days he happily, but sleepily, recounted the fun he’d had that day. Tom listened in in rapture, greedily drinking in every detail the boy gave him. He asked for details about the new friend Jaime had made at the park and laughed when the boy recounted the funny joke he’d learned from his favorite show. A cautious, quiet hope took root in his chest as he watched his son fight his obvious exhaustion. Jaime was talking to him, seemed happy once more to be doing so.

“Alright darling boy,” Tom heard Keira’s steady voice call. “It’s getting late and you need to be in your bed.”

Jaime pouted, clearly unwilling to heed his grandmother’s instruction.

“None of that now, Jaime lad,” Tom whispered. “You need sleep so you can have more fun tomorrow. And I will call you and you can tell me all about it, okay?”

The boy nodded and reluctantly handed the phone to his grandmother. Tom forced a smile as her face came into view. “Thank you for calling back.”

Keira nodded. “He missed you and I couldn’t have that. Good night, Tom.” And the screen went black.


	2. TWO

Things seemed…If not easier, then certainly less dire after that evening. Tom still found himself questioning just what he was doing but the contact with Jaime, seeing his son smile and laugh made the distance easier to bear. They’d settled into a routine, speaking twice daily, once in the morning as Jaime started his day and once in the evening as he settled to bed. Even with several thousand miles between them and the relationship between them still new and fragile for it, Tom allowed himself a cautious hope that maybe, just maybe this could work. Or at least not fail completely.

When filming wrapped four weeks later, it had taken everything in Tom to keep from running from set, to his hotel, and then straight to the nearest airport. The last thing he had any desire to do was hang about at the wrap party, but as one of the film’s stars his presence wasn’t negotiable in the eyes of his agent and majority of the crew. In the end he’d stayed long enough to make what his agent called “a respectable appearance”. He’d smiled and shared a drink but it was clear his mind was every much elsewhere.

The flight home, only two planes and a five hour lay-over this time, was nerve-wrecking. He’d called Jaime during the layover, grateful to hear his son’s laughing voice, even if the boy was thoroughly distracted by whatever was currently on the television screen. Tom smiled as he recognized the theme playing and sighed.

“Uncle Tom? You’ll be home soon right? You can come over and then we can play!”

Tom swallowed thickly, trying to not let the hope in the boy’s voice overwhelm him. “I’ll see you maybe tomorrow, I’ll have to talk to your Nan to make sure.”

Seeming satisfied with that, Jaime continued to babble on until Tom had needed to end the call when his flight was announced as boarding overhead. He’d been reluctant to end the call, not wanting to part from Jaime. It scared him, honestly, how much the little boy had come to mean to him and in such a short span of time. At times it still felt surreal, the idea he was someone’s father. That he was Jaime’s father.

But was he even that really? Yes, he was biologically Jaime’s father; he had the paperwork and lab results to prove it, but as far as the boy was concerned he was ‘Uncle Tom’, his mummy’s silly friend who played pretend.

And the knowledge of it burned far more than he had ever thought it would. It shouldn’t. He should have been grateful to even have a place in the boy’s life at all. It shouldn’t matter what Jaime called him. It was clear he adored Tom, clear he seemed to think the world of him. But it did. He was the boy’s father and Jaime didn’t know. And he wasn’t sure how long he would be able to honestly live with that. Tom scrubbed his face with his hands before shoving his mobile back into his pocket and running off towards the gate.

He’d made the call to Keira in the late morning after he’d arrived home and had settled as well as he could manage. It felt strange, having to ask permission to see his own child but he knew it was her right as Keira was Jaime’s legal guardian. He could press the issue, take the matter up in the courts and take full, legal custody of the boy but at what cost? Keira was the only stable thing in Jaime’s life and as much as Tom wanted to be, he knew he couldn’t be that for the boy. Not now, not when his life was so unsteady. It wouldn’t be fair to anyone involved.

Keira had agreed with minimal fuss; Jaime had apparently talked of nothing else from the time he’d finished speaking to Tom, throughout his bedtime routine, and well into breakfast after he’d awoken the following morning. “I figured as much,” she answered with a soft laugh, “Jaime is very much looking forward to seeing you.”

“I am too.”

Things fell back into their familiar new routine after that. Tom found himself spending whatever time he could at Keira’s with Jaime, ignoring the tearing at his heart whenever the boy called him ‘Uncle Tom’. It didn’t matter, he told himself. He was part of the boy’s life the hows shouldn’t matter. He wouldn’t let it matter. What mattered was he was a part of Jaime’s life.

And that worked for a while.

Tom did his best to balance the time he spent with Jaime with the demands his life placed on him; he did as much of the prep work for pre-production of his next project at home, only flying out at the last possible moment. He made sure to only be a phone or video call away from his son. It wasn’t ideal but it worked well enough. Tom found the work this time around grueling; when in the past he could let himself escape into the role he was playing, Tom couldn’t let himself now. Not when there was someone who needed him to be as present as possible.

One afternoon months later, during one of Tom’s brief but desperately needed sojourns home, while they were both settled in the living room playing with Lego Jaime asked the question Tom had both longed for and dreaded with equal measure.

“Uncle Tom, why don’t I have a daddy?”

It was as if a pin had dropped. Tom found himself staring at the boy sitting beside him, confusion painted across his features. “What…Jaime, what’s brought this on?”

Jaime shrugged, fidgeting with the Lego sitting before him. “Charlie’s dad takes him to the park and they play. I play with Nana Keira and you…But not my daddy. Mummy said he was away and couldn’t stay with us. But why?”

Tom blinked at him, unsure of what to say. Jaime’s hazel eyes were large and full of question. God, how was he supposed to explain any of this to a five year-old?

“I’d like to play in the park with my daddy like Charlie does,” Jaime continued, oblivious to the older man’s distress. “I like the swings and the slide. They’re fun and I can go high in the air. I like going high in the air. Mummy didn’t like going in the air but she always pushed me higher when I asked. Do you think my daddy likes going high in the air?”

Again Tom felt his throat tighten as the enormity of Jaime’s questions overwhelmed him. “Maybe,” was all he could manage to whisper, though he knew it would do little to ease the questions he could still see burning in the boy’s eyes.

“Jaime, my boy, come and get washed up for tea.” Keira’s voice echoed from the hall pulling Tom from his thoughts and sending his heart very nearly into his throat. Jaime pouted, clearly not ready for his playdate to be over.

Tom smiled warmly at him, hoping it reached his eyes. The absolute last thing he wanted was to hurt or confuse the boy more than he already was. All he had done, after all, was ask questions that must have been rattling inside his head for a while.

“Go listen to your Nan,” he urged, grabbing bits of Lego and dumping in back into the bin. “Go on, don’t you make her ask you a second time.”

Jaime sighed, reluctantly got to his feet and dashed out of the living room.

Footsteps in the hall pulled Tom’s attention from the mess around him. He dropped the pieces of Lego from his hand into the bin by his side and looked up to see Keira standing quietly in the doorway, an unreadable expression on her face. “I take it you overheard.”

Keira nodded. “He’s been…Quite curious as of late. It was honestly only a matter of time, really.”

Tom pushed himself to his feet. “I didn’t say anyth…I didn’t know what to say to him.”

“I know you didn’t, but maybe it’s time you should.” Tom blinked at her in confusion. “He already adores you, Tom, and I know you feel the same. You aren’t good at sticking around, at being there for people, but I can see you trying. For Jaime. For yourself. And I can respect that.” She laughed softly, shaking her head. “I may never like you, Tom, but I am starting to respect you. Just keep trying, you never know what may come of it.”

She smiled once more and walked from the room, calling out. “James William, those hands better be cleaned with soap and water.”

Gods above, he still didn’t know what to make of that woman.

Starting at his hands, Tom resolved to not bring up the subject with Jaime again unless, or until, the boy brought it up himself. As much as he wanted to her the boy call him ‘daddy’, and gods above he did, Tom knew he couldn’t just come out and say it. The words sat on the tip of his tongue but he couldn’t force himself to say them aloud. It was fear, pure and simple. He was afraid of disappointing the boy. Afraid he wouldn’t be enough, wouldn’t be the kind of father Jaime deserved.

“Uncle Tom! Are you staying for tea?” Jaime’s voice proceeded him as the little boy darted back into the living room, eyes bright and shining.

“I…If it’s alright with your Nan.”

Jaime reached out and grabbed Tom’s hand, dragging the tall man behind him as he raced back towards the dining room and his waiting grandmother. The question comes out in a flurry of excited words and Keira had to ask Jaime twice to slow down and repeat himself before she understood. She smiled warmly at the boy before turning her attention towards Tom. “Of course. Hope you’re alright with tomato soup and cheese toasties.”

Tom smiled brightly. “Tomato soup and cheese toasties sounds divine.”

Places set, the three sat around the scarred wooden dining table with bowls of steaming soup and warm toasted sandwiches sat before them. Jaime dug into the meal with the kind of abandon Tom himself tucked into pudding. “Pace yourself, Jaime. This isn’t a race,” Keira scolded.

Jaime looked up completely unabashed, pausing to take a deep drink of his glass of milk. Tom laughed heartily at the sight. His told him many a time over the last thirty odd years that he had been a cheeky little lad growing up and that if there was any justice in the world and he had children one day they would be just like him. _Gods above_ , he thought, _Mum was right_. 

“What’s funny?” Jaime asked, his mouth full of cheese toasty.

“Something my mum told me.”

“Oh?” Jaime’s eyes were wide with expectation. “What?”

Tom wiped his mouth with a napkin and folded his hands together, resting them on the table. “She told me many a time that I was a mischievous little imp, always looking for trouble, always trying something new.”

“Mummy used to call me her silly little imp.” Jaime’s smile faltered slightly at his own admission. “I miss Mummy.”

Instinctively, Tom reached out, resting his hand on the boy’s shoulder, squeezing it gently. “I know you do. I miss her too. She was a very good woman, your mummy.” He smiled softy at Jaime. “And I know she loved you very much.”

Jaime blinked up at him. “You do?”

“You were her silly little imp, Jaime. Of course she loved you so very much. She told me, just the once, how you were her whole world and I know she meant it.” Tom sighed, letting his hand ruffle through Jaime’s sandy hair. “You are a very lucky young man, Jaime lad, to have a mummy like yours.”

“Is your mummy gone too?”

Tom blinked at Jaime’s quiet question, caught completely off guard by it. He coughed once before speaking. “No, my mummy is still here. She lives in Suffolk though and I don’t see her as much as I should.”

Jaime nodded, looking at Tom curiously. “Does she live with your daddy?”

Tom shook his head. “No, Jaime,” he answered as truthfully as he could. “My mummy doesn’t live with my daddy. My daddy lives far away, all the way up in Scotland.”

“Oh.” There was slump to the boy’s shoulders that tore at Tom’s heart. “Do you think my daddy is there too? Mummy said he lived far away too.”

Tears burned in Tom’s eyes. “Oh Jaime…He doesn’t live in Scotland, but…But he did live far away for a time.” He didn’t know why he was saying it, didn’t know just what he was saying. But he knew he had to say _something_.

“You know my daddy?” Jaime’s voice was laced with such naked hope that Tom felt his heart clench. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Keira tense. They both knew this was coming, that it had to come, but so soon?

“Jaime…I…” He fumbled over his words. Why was this so difficult?

“He does, Jaime,” Keira cut in, ending Tom’s nervous rambling. She shot him a knowing look, as if to say, _now or never_.

Jaime’s eyes widened as he stared up at Tom with unbridled hope. “You know my daddy?”


	3. THREE

Wordlessly, Tom nodded as his heart pounded in his ears. He didn’t know if he wanted to scream at Keira or hug her for pushing the issue…Or at least for giving him a chance to say the words aloud. “I…I do know him, Jaime.” He swallowed thickly, the words sticking in his throat. “I’m…Jaime,” he cleared his throat and plastered on what he hoped was a warm smile, “I want to tell you a story, if that is alright.”

Jaime’s brow scrunched in thought, his eyes never leaving Tom’s face. “Okay.”

Keira stood quietly, grabbing their empty plates, placing them in the sink and walking wordlessly from the room.

Tom took a deep breath, running a hand through his hair. He rested his arms against the table and let the words tumble from him. “A long time ago, before you were born, your mummy was at school. She was studying very hard trying to learn everything she could. And one day she met this person who ended up being your daddy. They enjoyed talking and reading and just being together.” He didn’t try to fight the soft smile that spread across his face at the memories which flooded through him. Eliza sitting in the library, surrounded by books, a pen twisted in her dark hair. The way her eyes would light up when he entered a room. The way his heart seemed to race when she took his hand. The joy that bubbled inside of him when he said or did something that made Eliza smile. God, he missed her. “Your daddy loved to make your mummy laugh and did everything he could to do so. But he also enjoyed making other people smile and wanted to learn more about how to do that…So he went to another school and studied really hard.

Your mummy was there, by your daddy’s side helping him. When your daddy finished learning all he could at the special school, he decided to take all he learned and travel around to help people smile. Your mummy couldn’t travel with him all the time but they talked on the phone as much as they could. Your daddy loved your mummy very, very much but he loved making people smile too. And people liked your daddy making them smile so he had to go away for longer and longer. Your mummy…She knew your daddy loved making people smile and she knew that she couldn’t go with him…So your mummy told him it was okay, that he could go on an adventure and help make people laugh and smile and be happy. And he did. He missed your mummy and your mummy missed him. But she was happy because she had you to make her smile.”

Jaime looked at Tom, his brow wrinkled in thought. “Was my daddy happy, making people smile?”

Tom choked out a strangled sob and quickly stuffed in back down, not wanting to upset his son. The guilt Tom carried was his own and he refused to push it onto Jaime. “He…He was. But he missed your mummy. He missed her so much but he didn’t know how to tell her.” His eyes closed involuntarily as he fought against the tears burning in them. They startled open as he felt Jaime climbing into his lap. “Jaime what are you…?”

“You’re sad. You need a hug. Mummy always said hugs make everything better.” The bold, simple innocence of the statement struck Tom speechless. Wordlessly, he accepted the comfort offered by the child in his lap, ignoring the quiet voice in his head telling him that this was backwards. He was the one meant to be comforting Jaime. The one who fought the monsters, both real and imaginary, and made the world a safer, better place for the people he loved. Jaime was so much like Eliza in this moment and it tore his heart.

After several moments, when Tom had been able to clear his throat, he murmured into Jaime’s soft hair. “Your mummy is a very, very wise woman.” He wrapped his arms tightly around Jaime’s small form, holding the boy to him in a vain attempt to return some of the simple comfort offered.

“Mummy said daddy was good at hugs too.”

Tom fought to control his breathing. “Did she now?” Jaime nodded against his chest and Tom let himself given into the impulse to place a soft kiss to the top of his son’s head. It was such a simple thing, something he had done so many times with his nieces and nephews…but never with a child of his own. His pulse stuttered violently at the thought before quickly kicking into overtime. His child.

“Did the hug help?” Jaime asked, pulling his head back enough to look up at Tom. “Mummy said my hugs are like Daddy’s and they always help the sad go away.”

“It did,” Tom managed to choke out, fighting to keep his voice light and even. “It helped so very much.” He swallowed before lifting the boy from his lap and setting him back onto his feet. “Why don’t we go see if your Nan needs any help with the dishes?”

Jaime nodded and, taking Tom’s large hand into his own tiny one, led the way into the kitchen. They found Keira standing before the sink, sleeves rolled up and hands sunk into warm, soapy water. She smiled warmly at Jaime before shooting Tom a knowing (and questioning look). He gave her a subtle shake of the head. He’d had the perfect opening and hadn’t been able to say the words. Her eyes narrowed slightly but said nothing.

“We were wondering if you’d like some help with the washing up.”

Her nod was all the encouragement needed. The three worked in tandem; Keira washing, Jaime drying, and Tom putting the dishes away. It was early yet when they’d finished and Jaime pulled Tom back into the living room to resume their Lego building. The room he’d tidied earlier that evening was once more thrown into chaos. Lego pieces were strewn across the wooden floor and soon several half-built buildings and a fairly decent robot surrounded the man and child.

Laughter filled the room as Tom intoned the commanding voice of the invading robot set to destroy the half built city. Jaime manning the city with several action figures from the box nearest the window fought valiantly and soon the evil invading robot was driven back, much to the joy of the scared city-folk.

Time seemed to fly and it came as quite the shock when Keira poked her head back into the room to pry Jaime off for his bath and bedtime routine. Jaime’s face fell the same way it had hours before when Keira had called him for tea but this time, despite Tom’s gentle coaxing the boy refused to budge.

“No!” Jaime hollered, throwing the Lego in his hands across the room. Tears streamed down his reddened face as he continued to scream the word over and over. 

“James William,” Keira reprimanded, ignoring the tears and the screaming.

Tom was taken aback. Jaime had been such a congenial child in the nearly six months that Tom had known him; stubborn yes but usually easy going. He had been agitated and upset the first time Tom had left, but considering how close it had been to the loss of his mother Tom had taken it as a reaction to that more than loss of his newest companion. Seeing Jaime’s tantrum now, over what seemed to be such a mundane thing, set off quiet alarm bells.

He looked helplessly at Keira, wondering if his presence was helping or simply making the situation worse. He pushed himself to his feet, thinking maybe a tactical retreat would be the better part of valor in this moment. Clearly, he was less than useless in this scenario and he has no desire to give Keira reason to consider putting a stop to his visits.

It came as a shock then to feel Jaime’s arms wrapped tightly around his left shin. “No! Uncle Tom I don’t want you to go!”

Tom’s eyes darted between the boy clinging to his leg and the woman standing in the doorway, arms crossed in front of her chest. “Jaime, darling boy…” Jaime’s red-rimmed eyes stared pleadingly back at him and Tom felt his heart crack at the sight. _God, Mum was right. You can’t resist those bloody eyes_.

He took a deep breath, closing his eyes briefly before commending his soul to whatever deity happened to be listening. “Jaime lad. You need to get yourself into that tub. If you listen to your Nan, and she says it’s alright, I will stay and read you your bedtime story. Would that be alright?”

Jaime sniffled, his eyes shining with hope and delight. “You promise?”

He let his eyes dart to Keira who, while clearly not wholly happy with the idea knew a losing battle when she saw one, nodded. He mouthed a silent ‘thank you’ and turned his attention back to the boy clinging to him. “I promise.” Tom reached down and ran his hand through Jaime’s sandy hair. “Now get yourself up and cleaned young man.”

While nightly routines were completed overhead, Tom found himself puttering around the ground floor of the house. He still wasn’t used to being in this house, regardless of the circumstance. He’d been there only a handful of times with Eliza, each of those times were not exactly uncomfortable but awkward nonetheless. He’d been there more so now because of their son, because this was Jaime’s home, but still it felt strange. He was an interloper here, encroaching on someone else’s territory. He didn’t belong…but Jaime did and for his son he would do whatever was necessary.

He smiled, looking at the traces Jaime had left all over the house. The toys that were scattered around the living room, the artwork stuck to the refrigerator door and the cork notice board in the kitchen, the small jumper and jacket on the hall tree by the front door. Small signs that Jaime was part of this household. Small things he only dared imagine could be part of his own home one day.

Tom let that thought carry him up the stairs after Jaime was clean, dressed, and ready for bed. He’d smiled softly at Keira as the little boy, his little boy, took him by the hand and pulled him into his untidy bedroom. Jaime ran towards the bookshelf, pulling out a tattered copy of illustrated Disney stories, much loved by the look of wear it bore. He handed it expectantly to Tom before scrambling into the bed and pulling his blue duvet up to his chin.

Smiling, Tom settled himself on the floor beside the bed and opened the book to the main story list. He wordlessly scanned over the titles until one jumped out at him and he flipped to its start. Tom’s heart felt full to bursting as he watched Jaime’s eyes widen as he told him the tale Mowgli, the boy raised in the jungle, complete with voices. He didn’t know how often Jaime had heard the story or if it were brand new (though he doubted it was), but it felt as if it were the first time and it meant the world to Tom to see it.

Halfway through, he noticed Jaime’s eyes growing heavy though the boy fought his exhaustion valiantly. Tom continued on, half his attention trained on his son as the boy slowly succumbed to sleep. When his eyes were closed and his breathing even, Tom shut the book quietly. He sat for several minutes simply watching Jaime sleep before pushing himself up to his feet and carrying the book back to the shelf. As he reached to flip off the room’s overhead light, he heard Jaime’s small voice. “Uncle Tom?”

He froze, slowly turning back around. “Yes, Jaime lad?”

“I wish you were my daddy.”

Tom fought to hold back the choked gasp threatening to break from his chest. He could feel his heart stutter then crash to a halt as Jaime’s words slowly sank in. He couldn’t speak for several moments, his mouth hanging uselessly open until finally he could, though the words came out in barely a whisper. “I am,” he breathed. “I am your daddy.”

But Jaime’s soft snores were the only answer he received. Biting his lip, Tom blindly reached for the switch and shut off the overhead light. He pulled the door closed as softly as he could and bolted down the stairs and out of the door, ignoring Keira’s confused calls.

He was half way down the motorway and even closer to his home when the magnitude of just what happened hit him. He had told Jaime, said the words aloud to his son. Claimed him. And it was something he couldn’t take back…Didn’t want to take back, not ever. But had the boy heard him? Had he understood?

“Fuck,” Tom breathed, merging lanes and trying desperately to keep his focus on the road before him. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.” A small part of him was desperate to turn the bloody car around and drive straight back the way he’d come but he more rational part of his brain (which he was surprised had such a tight grip on him given the circumstances) prevailed.

It was late when he pulled his car into the street leading to his home. He entered the gate code with numb fingers and drove through. He hadn’t left the front lights on, he hadn’t expected to be gone this late, but the lights from the street lamps bled through enough light to ease his passage up the walk and to his door. He only dropped his keys once before managing to get them in the lock and open the door.

Tom spent the next several hours pacing first his living room, then the hall, and finally his bedroom. He’d tried to sleep and may even have caught small snatches here and there, but his mind refused to stop whirling. By near six in the morning, Tom gave up the ghost. He padded quietly down the stairs and into kitchen which caught the pale, red-pink light of the rising sun. He paced anxiously as he waited for the coffee to brew and drank two steaming mugs before jogging back up the stairs once more.

He’d thrown himself in the shower, hoping to clear his mind. When he emerged fifteen minutes later, he was clean but still burdened. Dressing silently he was down the stairs once more, sliding his feet into his boots and grabbing his mobile, keys, and wallet from the hallway table and was out the door. Tom wasn’t consciously aware of his destination until he’d found himself in Keira’s driveway. He killed the engine and sat, staring through the windscreen at the door knowing this was probably not the way he should be doing things. But when had that ever stopped him before.

Taking a deep breath, he slid from the car and made his way slowly up the walk towards the door. He knocked twice, cursing when he caught sight of the watch on his wrist and at the early hour. Christ, he was determined to make this woman hate him, wasn’t he?

Small, heavy footfalls echoed from inside the house and moments later the door was pulled open revealing a wide-eyed pajama clad Jaime. “James William!” Keira’s voice boomed from further down the hall, “What have I told you about answering the door?”

Jaime looked back, a sheepish grin on his face. _Christ_ , Tom thought, _is that how I look when I do that? It’s a wonder I made it to adulthood._

“But it’s my daddy!”

Tom stared in wonder at the boy standing before him, flashes of joy and disbelief flooding over him.


	4. FOUR

Breakfast, while more than a touch uneasy, had been nowhere near as awkward as Tom feared it would be. Not that he’d set out expecting to be invited in, especially after turning up on their doorstep at just after eight in the morning with absolutely no warning at all. It had been an impulsive, reckless decision but Tom could not find it in himself to regret it. Even as Keira glared at him coolly, her hand resting on Jaime’s shoulder as the boy bounced excitedly. They passed several moments in awkward silence before she gave a curt nod and invited Tom into the house. It was abundantly clear to Tom that while she wasn’t against him being involved in the boy’s life, dropping by as if he had the right to do so as he pleased was a step too far in her book. But she hadn’t fought him on it and for that Tom was incredibly grateful.

An extra place had been set and Tom found himself pulled to sit next to a bright eyed Jaime who was speaking a mile a minute. He smiled indulgently as he took in the food laid on the table. Eggs, toast, crispy bacon, and sausages. Tom piled a fair amount onto his own plate, watching in fascination as Jaime ate between rapidly firing questions. His sleep logged mind struggled to keep up.

The coffee Keira had set before him was a godsend in more ways than one. He nodded at her, offering what he hoped she would see was a small, grateful smile. Things were never going to be easy between them, too much bad blood lingered between them for that, but Tom hoped somehow they would be able to find middle ground. For Jaime’s sake at least.

After breakfast, Jaime had lead his newly discovered father into the back garden to run and play. The weather was thankfully warm and surprisingly dry in a way that Tom was certain was tempting the weather gods. Especially this late in the year. They ran about for what felt like ages until Keira called them back inside, sending the boy upstairs to wash up and change for the day. Tom found himself rocking back and forth on his heels, wondering if he was overstepping the unspoken lines Keira had laid at the start of this. No matter what he or Jaime felt, Keira was the boy’s legal guardian. He was bound by her rules unless he took the steps to change it and with his life as uncertain as it was, that day seemed far off indeed.

Things weren’t exactly easy after that strange morning, but they were slowly drifting in that direction. Jaime had clung to the idea of Tom as his father in a way Tom hadn’t expected. The boy was a mess of questions, curiosity, and joy. Over the years, in countless interviews, he’d been asked to describe his idea of happiness. And he’d always had the same, sweet but safely generic answers; lyrics or a quote he’d heard years ago. Things that captured the idea but not perhaps his reality of it. Never the real answer; his family or the first time he’d acted on stage, his first time on a set. Things that, looking back, were wonderful…But now, now he knew with absolute certainty that his happiness was seeing the pure unadulterated joy in the eyes of his little boy.

It amazed him at times, thinking that something so simple, so small in the scheme of things, could come to mean so very much. Things were better yes…But they still had a long way to go.

While Jaime had taken to Tom’s new role in his life like a duck to water, Keira had been wary. She didn’t hinder the relationship growing between Tom and Jaime nor did she actively encourage it. It had been a constant source of frustration for Tom. He knew why she acted the way she did, understood his behavior in regards to her daughter coloured the way she viewed him now. And he couldn’t fault her for that. Had he been in her position, Tom couldn’t say he wouldn’t have done the same.

But he knew, even if he hadn’t wanted to acknowledge it, that sooner rather than later they would need to sit and talk, properly talk, about what was happening. About the role Tom would play in Jaime’s life.

Tom had intended to find time to set aside to do just that, had even called his agent about starting to look for a good family solicitor should push indeed come to shove, but as it always did his life managed to throw itself in the way. He’d known filming for his latest project was coming up, and much sooner than he liked, but he hadn’t predicted the change in schedule which pushed up his need to be on set by a good three weeks. All the time he’d thought he’d had to prepare Jaime (and in all honesty, to prepare _himself_ ) for the looming separation his work would bring had been snatched from him. They needed him in five days’ time.

He’d cursed after his agent had broken the news (a call shortly after he’d made it in the door from his morning run) and cursed a great deal more when it hit him he’d have to explain, yet again, to Jaime why he had to leave sooner than he’d promised. It killed him to think about the disappointment he knew he’d see in his little boy’s eyes. Disappoint that he, again, would be the sole cause of.

They’d had so many things planned in those three weeks; trips to the park, the zoo, playdates and other things Tom’s agent and Luke most definitely hadn’t been thrilled with (especially without any formal public statement regarding his newly found status as a father) but begrudgingly agreed to look the other way. Things Tom himself had been looking forward to. How could he not, with the way Jaime’s face had lit up whenever he talked about it? And now he had to crush that hope, had to disappoint him yet again. The all too familiar doubts raged; would he every truly be a good father for Jaime? Didn’t Jaime deserve someone who could be there? Who could keep the promises they’d made?

His mother’s voice, who had swiftly become his voice of reason (had been for the majority of his life if he was being completely honest), scoffed at him. ‘ _It doesn’t matter what you think the boy deserves,_ you _are what he has. And you will find a way to make it work, even if it’s far from ideal. You will make it work because you don’t have any other choice_.’ 

Jaime had been understandably upset by the news, tearful and not quite understanding why the father he’d just found had to leave again and so quickly. Tom did his best, again and again, in those few days leading up to his departure to explain as best he could the whys of his leaving. To explain that it didn’t mean Tom loved him any less or that he didn’t want to be his daddy anymore (when Jaime had uttered those words Tom was sure his heart had broken into a thousand sharp and painful shards). This was a temporary thing; he would be available by phone or by video and that as soon as he could he would be home.

Keira said nothing but watched him with knowing eyes. Tom knew the picture he must be painting and hated that in her eyes he was only proving her opinion of him correct. But what could he honestly do? He was under contract and breaking it now would cause more trouble and strife than it was worth. Not that he hadn’t tried, but his agent (and his solicitors) had been firm. Walking out now would be as good as blacklisting himself. He’d already lost enough good will over the stunt he’d pulled several months back. Backing out of another project so soon after…That would certainly be the final nail in the coffin. And then what would he do? Acting was as much a part of his life as breathing. And as selfish as it was, Tom wasn’t sure he could ever fully walk away.

He let her quiet stares go, the fight that would ensue should he push the matter wasn’t one he thought himself mentally ready for. Not at this time. But he’d spoken to both Luke and his agent and started the ball rolling, he would be ready and he would fight tooth and nail if he had to. He was Jaime’s father and he owed it to not only the boy but to himself and to Eliza to be the best father he could be. To be as fully involved in his life as he was able to be.

Tom kissed and hugged Jaime goodbye on the last day before he was scheduled to fly out. They’d played in his grandmother’s back garden and Tom promised to call as soon as he had settled to show Jaime his temporary home. The drive back to London had been hellish; traffic was a nightmare and his nerves were only serving to make the already short fuse of his temper glow hotter still. He’d snapped at Luke when his friend had called reminding him of his flight details and when the car would be around to drive him to Heathrow. Tom had apologized immediately after, it wasn’t Luke’s fault and god knows he didn’t want to repeat his mistakes in this upcoming production. Didn’t want to slip back into that angry, frustrated man he’d been.

“You’re tired, mate. And you’re stressed. So I will let that slide, just work on keeping yourself in check. I like working with you Tom, but lately you’ve been making me earn my pay and I’m not entirely sure I like that.”

What was said no doubt in jest wriggled in the back Tom’s mind the rest of that evening and well into the following day. He’d managed to scrape up enough sleep to not be a complete mess when the hire car arrived in the morning. His bags had been packed and left by the door the night before and his carryon was at his side. He threw in the last of the bits and bobs he needed for the journey and headed out into the pre-dawn light.

Bags packed securely in the trunk of the car, they sped off towards Heathrow and towards months of long, hard work that normally spiked a fevered excitement in him but now left him on edge and apprehensive. Once he got settled into a routine, he knew the unease would ebb away but until then…

The flight was long and despite the perks of first class flying, the seats were never terribly comfortable and sleep was elusive. When he’d finally disembarked the only thing on Tom’s mind was the warm, comfy bed awaiting him. The drive from the airport to the hotel had been long enough that Tom found himself nodding off in the backseat. He’d nearly jumped out of his skin when the driver shook his shoulder to wake him. Check in was mercifully a quiet, easy process and before he was consciously aware of it, Tom was in his room and laying face first onto the cool, white duvet. He drifted off again, only to be woken by the ringing of his mobile.

Confused and still in the clutches of sleep, it took him an embarrassingly long amount of time to recognize the sound for what it was and then to dig his mobile from his trouser pocket. He smiled, blearily as he recognized the number and slid his finger across the screen to answer.

“Jaime, lad.”

Filming had gone far better than Tom had dared hope, especially given its inauspicious start. He enjoyed his role and had developed a genuine report with his cast-mates. It was nice to be able to escape into someone else’s life for a short time. To live through someone else’s emotions. He spoke with Jaime nearly every day, enjoying the small bits of information Jaime told him of his day. He’d shared what he could as well, sending Jaime pictures of himself in make-up and costume. Taking him on a virtual tour of the set. Reading bedtime stories to him. Time did not speed by, but it passed soon enough.

When wrap was called after just over three months, Tom felt both an acute sadness that the end of filming almost always brought in him and an immense relief that he would be home soon. He’d managed to duck out of the wrap party after a few hours and was thankfully dropped off at the airport shortly thereafter (he had packed before heading to the party, checked out of his hotel, and left the baggage stored safely in the back of the hire car). He spent the entire flight back to the UK in nervous excitement.

He’d rushed home from the airport, grateful to shower and sleep in his own bed. His sister had thankfully stopped by the day before to air out the house and to make sure his fridge and pantry were stocked. He had people who could easily have done this for him, and he’d used said people in the past, but this time his sister had gotten the idea in her head and nothing could budge her from it.

Tom woke the next morning, confused but comfortable. It took him several moments to remember he was home. He blinked at the dimly lit room, getting his bearings. He’d no idea what time it was, hadn’t even remembered putting himself to bed. He glanced at the bedside table, midafternoon then. Which meant he’d slept at least ten hours. _That’ll do wonders with acclimating to BST_ , he thought with a groan. He sat up and scrubbed his face with his hands. He needed to get up and get back into a routine or he’d never get himself back on track.

Padding downstairs, he fixed himself a cup of coffee and set about throwing together a light breakfast. Once finished he ate it hastily, carrying the plate into the living room and settling on the sofa where he set about checking his mobile for missed calls or texts. He had a few from Luke and from his agent, which he returned. A solicitor had been arranged regarding his paternity claim should he wish to pursue custody. He also had a few interviews scheduled for later in the week regarding various projects.

There were messages from his mum and sister as well as one from Jaime. He sighed as he played the message from his son, guilt coursing through him. He’d mean to call Jaime once he’d made it home but must have passed out before he’d done so. He called him back, apologizing and explaining that he’d gotten in late and fallen asleep soon after. Jaime seemed to accept this and immediately launched into a tale about his day, asking breathlessly after when Tom was going to come by. As soon as he showered, Tom promised (Keira be damned). Excited at the prospect of seeing his daddy, Jaime ended the call with a happy laugh. Tom chuckled to himself, taking the stairs two at a time.

The conflict with Keira came to a head a few short weeks later. After a trip to the park, and while Jaime had been upstairs in his room, Keira’s quiet disapproval became too much. He hadn’t meant to call her out as he did, had intended on trying to keep the conversation civil but stress and frustration (both at her attitude and at the sneaking suspicion that he’d seen a photographer at the park watching him and Jaime) had brought his words out with far more force than he had intended. Keira had been taken aback, clearly not expecting such vehemence and had fired back with equal force. It was only after hearing Jaime’s footsteps on the landing that the two seemed to remember themselves.

They plastered smiles on their faces and put the matter aside until after the lad had been fed, washed, and sent to bed. It was clear this was a conversation neither of them were delighted about having but one they knew needed to come to pass. Keira put forth her opinion that while Tom was biologically linked to Jaime, that didn’t mean he was able to be a proper parent to the boy. Jaime needed structure, support, stability. Tom worked a great deal and often in far flung locations. With Jaime preparing to start his schooling, what would that kind of disruption do to him?

Her words stung. They were things he’d thought himself and often. But he had a right to be as involved in Jaime’s life as he could be and he’d said as much. Yes, his work meant his life was less structured or home based than most, but it wouldn’t always be. Now that this project was completed, his future work would be much more local. And save for promotional work, his schedule was clearer than it had been in years. He wanted have a tangible, legal stake in Jaime’s life. That didn’t mean he was planning to snatch him from her or that he wanted to turn the boy’s life on its head. He simply wanted to have a say in his life, to be responsible for him in more than just name.

“Jaime is my son, Keira. He is all I have left of Eliza. I messed up terribly with her and I can never, ever take that back. I won’t let that happen with Jaime, not if I can help it.” Tom sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I want to do this as friendly as I possibly can but make no mistake I will take this as far as I need to. Please, please let us do this in a way that will cause the least disruption to his life.”

Tensions still running high, Tom had left and spent his entire drive home wondering what the hell he was going to do. Keira called the next morning and told him that if he was serious then maybe it was time solicitors were engaged. The words sent a shiver of real fear through his gut, though he didn’t truly think she’d meant then in any malicious way. The courts would need to be involved, in some capacity and Tom had always known that. But the irrational part of his brain worried that in doing so he would be inciting a chain of events that could bring the boy more harm than good.


	5. FIVE

It wasn’t an easy process and there had been push back on both sides. More often than not Tom found himself leaving meetings with his solicitor (a middle-aged no nonsense woman of his agent’s suggestion and of sterling reputation) feeling equal parts frustrated and terrified. She’d done her level best to reassure him that set-backs and disagreements were par for the course “After all,” she’d said pointedly after one such meeting, “Rome wasn’t built in a day.”

Despite the constant feeling of unease and stagnation, they were at least starting to get somewhere. The time Tom spent with Jaime had an overlaying tension now which seemed to put both Tom and Keira on edge. They were never openly hostile towards each other around Jaime, but it was clear the boy felt the change. And that was something Tom knew neither he nor Keira wanted. It had taken tea and a fair bit of open, frank discussion on both of their parts for an uneasy truce to form between them. They both loved Jaime something fierce and both wanted the best for him. In order to do that they needed to work together, needed to be on similar pages. Jaime deserved no less.

The begrudging truce formed that night was tested a week later when pictures of Tom and Jaime playing in the park began to make their way around gossip sites and the papers. While Tom’s status as a father was known to family, close friends, and his management, a public announcement had never been formally made. Knowing the intrusive nature of the press, Tom wanted to shield Jaime from it as much as he possibly could. He’d known taking the boy out in public would eventually bring the matter to a head, but had hoped being outside of London would delay it. And it had, for a time.

When Luke called letting him know pictures had been released and several news agencies were reaching out for comment, Tom had been annoyed but not entirely surprised. He’d known from the beginning that sooner or later this would happen. The world he’d chosen to make his life in meant, whether unfairly or not, his life (both public and private) would be considered up for grabs. And because of who he was to Tom, Jaime could (and most likely would) very well be dragged into it. But knowing that did little to make any of it easier to bear. Nor was it any comfort.

Shortly after that initial call, Tom discussed the matter with his team and then shortly thereafter with Keira, as she had a stake in this just has Tom himself had, and they’d all begrudging agreed that something needed to be said. To ignore the matter entirely would only serve to worsen the issue. Saying nothing would only lead to the press and the public coming up with their own versions of events and more cameras as they sought to prove or disprove their theories. In being open, or at least in saying something, part of that power, that control would be back in their hands. It wouldn’t stop the press or the cameras (and Tom was no longer naïve enough to think it would) but it would allow them to have a say in the story being told. It wasn’t ideal, but it was the one card they had left to play. Jaime was his son and he wasn’t ashamed of that fact, saying nothing, hiding it would only serve to make it seem as if that were the case. And that was something Tom would not stand for.

The statement they had agreed on was short, simple, and to the point; it acknowledged that the boy Tom had been photographed with was indeed his son. That he and the boy’s mother had been in a serious relationship when the boy was conceived and that she had recently passed on. They asked for privacy in this matter and that while Tom himself was a public figure, his son was not and asked the press and the public to respect that.

It was far from perfect and the resulting push back was loud. Why as this only coming out now? What was Tom trying to gain? Who was the child’s mother anyway? Why had nothing about her ever come out?

Tom did his best to ignore the questions and the unkind words and had encouraged Keira to do the same. “It’s just noise,” he explained, hoping she could understand. Hoping she could see, in this instance, he knew what he was talking about. It was a hard lesson to learn and one Tom still found himself struggling with. But it was the only way to handle the madness. “It’s loud and painful but ultimately changes nothing. You can’t read everything they say about you or the ones you care for, doing so would drive you mad. You can’t change it, can’t stop it, so you just have to do your level best to ignore it. To treat it as if it’s nothing more than background noise.”

Following his own advice was easier said than done and he’d caught himself looking at the articles and speculation from time to time, fighting the bile rising in his throat as he did so. _It could be worse_ , he told himself. _It could be so much worse._ But knowing that didn’t make seeing it any easier.

While he fought to keep things as normal as he could for Jaime’s sake, the boy clearly noticed the sudden amount of attention he’d garnered. They’d been in the park and had spent a fair amount of time in the play area, Tom laughing as Jaime horsed around on the monkey bars (ignoring the sense of dread he felt when Jaime nearly lost his grip) and ran up and down the slide. On one such trip up the climbing tower on a warm August afternoon, Jaime paused, confusion painting his features and pointed towards the far end of the play area. “Look daddy! That man’s taking pictures of us. Is he your friend?”

Tom swallowed the curse he wanted to utter. He’d gotten used to being followed in London, known it was a part of his life he couldn’t entirely escape. But here…This, here, was a part of his life that was solely his. They had so much of him but this part, this was his. Forcing himself to calm and smile warmly at Jaime, he asked, “Why don’t we go back to Nan’s for a bit? I’m sure she’s got tea nearly ready.”

Jaime didn’t seem wholly convinced but followed alongside Tom readily enough. Tom fought against the urge to turn and see if they were indeed being followed, as he strongly suspected they were. Jaime seemed mostly unconcerned, if not vaguely curious, about the photographers and they last thing Tom wanted was to scare the boy. He didn’t know if his son or Keira were bothered when he wasn’t around, Keira never mentioned and Tom was leery about bringing the subject up. They had been getting along over the last several weeks, despite Keira’s obvious frustration at this unwanted attention in her grandson’s life. Tom was loathe to do anything to rock the shaky peace they’d found.

Tea was indeed waiting once they’d arrived at the house. If Keira noted Tom’s unease as he helped Jaime wash up, she refrained from commenting. Jaime ate with gusto, Tom and Keira watched sharing knowing looks. The boy very much took after Tom in his veracity when it came to food and talking it seemed. Once he’d inhaled his meal, Jaime babbled almost nonstop about the fun he’d had with Tom in the park and, to Tom’s discomfort, the funny man taking pictures. Keira nodded and smiled indulgently at the boy but her discomfort at the situation was clear.

Once again, Tom cursed himself and the life he’d chosen to lead. Cursed how things that had no business in the public eye were thrown into it without warning simply because of their attachment to him. Luke had assured him that it was manageable and Tom knew enough of UK privacy laws to know that the papers couldn’t publish Jaime’s face without his consent…or at least the consent of his guardian and Keira would never allow it. But that didn’t mean he wouldn’t be followed. Pictures could tell stories and stories involving Tom seemed to sell for a great deal.

When Keira had sent Jaime upstairs to wash up, Tom told her such. Tried his best to explain he would do whatever it took to keep Jaime safe. Keira listened with a reserved silence, her face unreadable. Something Eliza had clearly inherited from her; Tom could remember many a time he’d sat wondering just what was going on in Eliza’s mind when her face refused to tell him a thing. Once he’d finished, Keira told him she’d known in theory what allowing him into Jaime’s life would entail and that Eliza had known as well. Keeping the boy from his father hadn’t done any of them any good and while she hated the risks involved, she knew that Jaime deserved to have his father be a part of his life.

“I don’t like this and I won’t pretend I do for either of our sakes, but I know it is what comes with the territory and you have proven yourself enough that I can trust you to put the needs of that little boy above your own. And that is why I won’t fight you on this, why I am agreeing to let you share custody. He is my grandson, but he is your son and this is, ultimately, what Eliza wanted.”

And with that, the discussion was done. There was little point in rehashing any of it. What mattered now was Jaime and keeping him healthy, safe, and happy. While Tom’s life brought challenges, having him in Jaime’s life far outweighed any of those risks. And life went on as normally as possible. Tom spent as much time as he could with the boy as the dawning school year drew closer. It was to be Jaime’s first and he couldn’t have been more excited. He talked of nothing else; excited to make new friends and to learn as much as he could. It warmed Tom’s heart, seeing the boy’s clear love and desire to learn. He was such a mix of Tom and of his mother. And again Tom felt the familiar longing loss of what could have been had he or Eliza made different choices.

The custody hearing concluded three weeks after the school year began, and for the most part the news was kept out of the papers (Luke was certainly worth his weight in gold and when Tom told him as much Luke joked and told him the bill would be sent right away then). Tom would share custody of his son with his grandmother while Keira would retain full physical custody for the time being with an understanding that in three years’ time a joint physical custody agreement would come into effect. Tom would have that time to rearrange his life as best he could to prepare. It would be easy enough to transition to more localized productions and it would give him the excuse to get back into his love of theatre. Visitation would be granted in an effort to ease Jaime into the idea of living at least part time with Tom.

Both Tom and Keira agreed to wait until Jaime had settled as much as he could into his school routine before starting any overnight visitation with Tom in London. Day trips on the weekends and time spent overnight at Keira’s were about as adventurous as either felt Jaime needed right then. The boy had enough changes coming as it was to pile on anymore. Jaime took to these outings and times spent with his father like a duck to water. He loved spending time with Tom, loved talking to him about school and all he was learning while there. Tom, in turn, was grateful to see the boy thriving. Jaime had a way with people that was so much like his mother, and he rationalized, like himself. Nothing about their situation was perfect, but it was working and that was enough for now.

Things became harder as the first anniversary of Eliza’s death drew near. Tom had been dreading the knowledge of it since he’d woken up that stormy morning in late September and realized with a sinking sense of pain and guilt just what the next week would mean. It would mean that it had been a year since he’d learned of her passing, a year since he’d lost the last vague hope of ever seeing her again, a year since Jaime had come so unexpectedly into his life. And in that year so much of his life had changed. Suddenly it wasn’t just him anymore, there was a little boy who needed him and he’d come to learn he needed him just as badly. So much good had come from something so painful.

His mind turned to Jaime, wondering just how much the boy understood of what was coming. Jaime still spoke often of his mother and Tom knew he missed her more than he was able to say. He wondered what Keira had planned for herself and for Jaime and if he had any right to involve himself in those plans. Yes, he was a part of Jaime’s life now and yes Eliza had been someone he loved (and always would love) very deeply, but he hadn’t been a part of her life by his own selfish decisions. Keira had been incredibly close to her daughter and had her own loss to mourn. Intruding in that, especially if he wasn’t wanted was the last thing Tom had any desire to do. 

It was therefore a surprise when his mobile rang on the eve of the anniversary of that painful day. He’d seen Keira’s number and for a brief moment considered sending the call to voicemail. He didn’t know just why she was reaching out and if it was to ask him to stay away, Tom wasn’t sure he would have the nerve, or the heart, to hear it. But what if it were Jaime calling…What if something had happened? Tom slid his finger across the glass screen and with trepidation answered.

Keira’s voice was quiet, solemn, and he knew without a shadow of a doubt the memories of the person they had both lost were standing by her side. She did not ask him much, just to come by the house tomorrow. Jaime would need him, she’d said, and she believed he would need the boy as well. Tom had slept fitfully that night, memories and guilt swirling around him until he could not truly tell one from the other. He’d given up the ghost around four in the morning and had made his way down into the kitchen for coffee and something he hoped would distract him. 

His mobile sat on the counter where he must had dropped it after Keira’s call. He had no real memory of any of it and that was probably for the best. Jaime would need him to be strong today, even if the boy did not fully understand why. Tom sighed, waiting for the water in the kettle to boil. Out of habit he reached for his mobile, hitting the home button to wake up the screen. There was a message waiting for him in WhatsApp from Benedict. His newest son hadn’t quite mastered the art of sleeping through the night and it seemed Ben had drawn the short straw and was sitting up with him allowing his wife her much needed sleep.

Tom smiled at the photograph of the little boy sat in his friend’s arms and fought to ignore the strange, pain of longing he felt. He would never have memories like that of Jaime and on most days he could live with that. He’d always known there were things out of his control, but sometimes that longing screamed in the back of his mind, so much time lost and for what?

He hit the call button in the app without thinking and waited as it rang. “Tom? I didn’t think you’d be up yet.”

Tom sighed, taking the kettle off the heat and pouring the water into the press. “Couldn’t really sleep. Saw your message and figured it would be safe to call.”

Benedict chuckled, “Yes, sleep has been rather elusive on this end as well.”

He placed the mobile on the counter, switching the device to speaker as he moved about finishing brewing his coffee. Through the tinny speakers Tom could hear the muffled grunts and squirming of the baby in his friend’s arms. “But it’s worth it, is it not?”

“Oh yes, even when it feels like you’ll go mad, it’s worth it.” There was a slight hesitation before Benedict spoke again “Tom?”

“Hm?”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Tom sighed, taking a sip from the mug in his hand. He grimaced at the heat, grateful though for the moment it gave him to decide how to respond. Briefly, he considered brushing off Benedict’s invitation to talk, the last thing he wanted to do was unload on his already sleep deprived friend. But he couldn’t do it, not when he knew Ben’s offer was genuine. He was one of the first people, outside of his family and his team, Tom had opened up to after learning of Jaime. And Benedict had been a sympathetic ear, offering both his ear and his counsel when required.

He knew that Benedict was well aware of the significance of the day to come and knowing had offered Tom a quiet hand in a way he knew his stubborn friend would accept. What he’d ever done to be worthy of such a friend, Tom would never know, but he was eternally grateful.

It didn’t take long for the thoughts and fears which had plagued him to come tumbling from Tom’s lips. Just saying the words aloud felt like a giant weight had been lifted from him. Even though there was nothing Ben could really do. Nothing _he_ could really do about any of it other than simply do what needed to be done.

The call ended as sunlight began to pour through the kitchen window. His coffee had long since gone cold and Benedict, to his credit, could no longer pass off his yawning as a one off. With a sleeping infant in his arms, Benedict wished him well. “If I don’t sleep now, he’ll be up again and so will his older brother and sleep will be something that happens to more fortunate souls.”

Laughing, Tom bid his friend a pleasant sleep and surrounded once more by the silence of his kitchen, sighed. The clock on the stove read twenty-seven minutes past six. Keira hadn’t said how early he should come but if he showered and left within the half hour he could be at her’s around the time Jaime would be waking up. Mind made up, he placed the still full but now stone cold coffee by the microwave and jogged out of the kitchen and up the stairs to at a time.

Twenty minutes later he was clean and back in the kitchen to reheat his coffee. No sense in letting the brew go to waste and he desperately needed the caffeine. Wincing as he pulled the now steaming mug from the microwave and dumped its contents into the travel mug his mother had bought him last Christmas (“you drink enough of the blasted stuff so you might as well have something decent to carrying it in when you’re dashing about”). Shoving his mobile in his pocket, Tom jogged to the door, grabbed his keys from the hall table and made his way out into the bright sunlight.

Keira had clearly been expecting his early arrival Tom discovered as he found her waiting at the door as he pulled into her drive. She nodded at him and he did so in return. This was going to be a rough day for all of them.

“Thank you for coming,” she whispered as she pulled the door shut behind him.

“Thank you for having me.” He didn’t know what else to say. What else could he say? He shed his coat, hanging it on an empty arm of the hall tree. The sound of footfalls above signaled Jaime’s imminent arrival and Tom steadied himself to become whatever his son would need him to be.


	6. SIX

Jaime had been thrilled to find Tom waiting at the foot of the stairs and, in that moment, Tom wished he’d had the forethought to have had a camera to capture the look of pure, unadulterated joy that spread across his son’s features.

“Daddy!” he squealed, all but throwing himself into Tom’s waiting arms.

Tom bit down on the rush of emotion which choked him at the boy’s sudden action and breathed, “Jaime lad” into his sandy hair.

It had been one of the brighter spots of that difficult day, holding his son in his arms. Breakfast was a quiet affair; Jaime, usually full of questions and stories, seemed to draw into himself as the morning drew on. Tom knew his thoughts were on his mother, knew the boy understood, at least to an extent, the magnitude of this day and of what he had lost.

Jamie had dawdled when instructed to go upstairs and dress for the day. They would be visiting the gravesite, a place Tom had only been once shortly after the funeral, and it was clear the boy was hesitant to do so. And Tom understood. It had been simply too painful to go back himself after the funeral, seeing her name and the dates carved in stone had made it all far too real. But this was something they needed to do, regardless of his own feelings on the matter. So Jaime had reluctantly taken the stairs to his room and rejoined his father and grandmother ten minutes later, following them quietly out of the house and into Keira’s car.

Tom spent the majority of the drive to the cemetery in quiet thought, his hand linked with Jaime’s. _The firsts are always the worst_. The thought swam through his mind as the car sped along. First birthday’s, first Christmas’, the first anniversary of their passing; they were all painful in their own ways. And this…This was never going to be an easy thing, he’d known that.

But nothing in him had prepared him at all for just how difficult it truly would be. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t known life without her, he’d spent the six years before on his own. But that had been wholly different. He’d known she was still out there, still living her life. Happy, he hoped, but out there living. This year…And it hit him fully for the first time that this year had been one in which she was truly gone. That he would never see her again. Never hold her. Never be able to beg her forgiveness for his selfishness and his self-centered choices that had cost them both so much. And all of this only cemented that fact.

The cemetery was quiet for a Tuesday morning. There had been a few people wandering about, Tom could hear the quiet murmuring of voices as they spoke to each other and to the loved ones they came to visit, but for the most part they were alone. None of the people he’d seen seemed to pay them any mind and for that Tom was exceedingly grateful. Part of him had feared looking over his shoulder to find cameras watching them, waiting for an image that would sell whatever story the papers thought would make them most coin. It was a part of his life he had feverishly wished would remain far, far away on this day of all days. And so far the fates seemed to be on his side.

Jaime, tearful and solemn, laid a small bunch of daisies by Eliza’s headstone. He whispered words Tom did his utmost best not to hear. It wasn’t that he cared little for the boy’s grief but more that he knew if he had any hopes of keeping himself together enough to make it through this trip, he couldn’t let himself hear them. Jaime needed him to be strong, needed to be able to fall to pieces and know his father would be there to set the world to rights again after. If Tom let himself fall apart, how could he possibly be of any help to his son?

Silence remained a steadfast companion as they made their way back towards the car. Tom helped Jaime buckle in and offered the boy a small smile which was returned with a trembling lip. The drive to the house felt both instantaneous and agonizing in length. No one spoke as the car pulled into the drive and they piled from it into the warmth of the house.

Keira disappeared into the kitchen almost as soon as she’d walked through the door and busied herself with lunch preparations, sending Jaime upstairs to change. Tom followed quietly behind her; his attempts to offer aid were brushed aside, leaving him nursing the gently steaming mug of coffee she’d handed him. He’d taken it with softly murmured thanks and watched as she flitted about. He could so easily see the strain of grief painting her tired features and felt a kinship with her for it. He considered briefly trying to engage in her conversation but thought better of it, the ground they held was shaky at best and Tom did not want to be the one to cause its collapse. Not today.

Loud thuds from above caused both to freeze. Tom shot Keira a knowing look and quietly slid from his chair and out into the hall. The thuds were followed in rapid succession by a crash and yelling. Tom was up the stairs and bursting into Jaime’s room before he’d consciously made the choice to do so. The boy was standing by his bed, tears streaming down his face several toys and a lamp scattered across the floor. Mindful of the glass, Tom made his way towards his son, crouching before him. He called the boy’s name and felt his heart break as wide, tear-filled eyes met his own.

“Oh my boy.” He pulled Jaime into a tight hug and kissed his head while the boy wept into his chest. Tom rocked him slowly back and forth, murmuring words of comfort into the top of his head. “I’ve got you. It’s alright. I’ve got you.”

Tears burned in his own eyes and he shut them tightly in a vain effort to stem their flow. There would be time enough to fall apart later, Jaime needed him now. Several minutes later the boy’s sobs quieted and his shaking slowed. Tom held him until he finally seemed to calm and Jaime sat silent in his arms.

Jaime’s voice was muffled from the way he had pressed his face into Tom’s shirt. And his father, though he tried valiantly, could not make sense of what had been said. With a calm, quiet tone, Tom pulled the boy back and asked him what he’d said. Jaime sniffed twice before murmuring once more, “I want Mummy to come home.”

The words shattered Tom’s heart and he gripped the boy tightly to him, unable to speak. When he finally found his voice, he was disheartened to hear the emotions he’d been trying so hard to tamper down resonating clearly. “I know. I wish she was here as well.” Several moments of silence passed before Tom spoke again. “But as long as you remember the happy times you had with your mummy then in a way, she’s never really gone.”

Jaime blinked up at him with glassy eyes. “Really?”

Tom nodded, leaning down to kiss Jaime’s head once more. “Really. As long as you keep her alive in your heart, she’ll always be there.” They sat quietly for several minutes before Tom sighed and pulled back. “So let’s get this room set to rights and go see what your Nan’s made for lunch?”

Silently, Jaime nodded and climbed off Toms lap. They made quick work of the mess Jaime had made (Tom refusing to let him anywhere near the glass from the lamp bulb) before heading back down stairs and joining Kiera in the kitchen. They passed the rest of the day quietly together, occasionally talking but mostly sitting together or watching Jaime play with Lego.

As Tom carried his exhausted son up the stairs, the small boy clinging to him, that night he was grateful to have made it through the day. His own eyes burned with tears and exhaustion but he’d done what he’d set to do; he’d been there for Jaime, been as strong as he could have been. There was time later to fall to pieces, though Tom knew that time would not be put off much longer. 

Teeth cleaned and tucked into his bed, Tom watched as Jaime blinked sleepily up at him. He smiled softly, closing the book in his lap and leaning in to kiss his son gently on the forehead. “I love you, Jaime. Always.”

A muffled, “love you too,” echoed from beneath the covers. Tom smiled softly as he stood and flicked off the overhead light. He pulled the door to and slowly descended once more down the stairs.

“Tom?” Keira’s voice echoed from the living room.

Freezing on the landing, Tom took a deep breath to steady himself before answering, “Yes?”

“Can you come here a moment?”

Tom padded quietly down the hall and into the living room, finding Keira sitting on a chair, book in her lap. “Yes?”

She smiled quietly at him. “I wanted to thank you for coming today. I know I’ve not been the easiest person and we’ve not really ever gotten on but you’ve been there for Jaime and I appreciate that. So thank you for coming today. Jaime needed you and I think you needed him just as badly.”

He stood in the doorway, mind reeling. He wasn’t sure what to think let alone how to respond so he remained silent for several moments, staring at a spot a few inches above Keira’s head, before finally nodding and returning her smile with a strained one of his own. Rubbing his hands on his jeans, Tom took a breath and motioned at the door. “I should probably be on my way. Thank you, again, for having me. I know it’s not been easy for you, any of this.”

It was Keira’s turn to nod quietly. 

Still unsettled, Tom turned and walked slowly down the hall and towards the front door. Bidding a silent goodnight to his sleeping son upstairs, he disappeared into the cool evening and set on his way home. 

The next several weeks were a blur of activity, Tom spent several hours in and out of both Luke and his agent’s offices, working to finagle his upcoming schedule into something more home based. He had put the idea out there or maybe a theatre production, of at all possible, something that would allow him the flexibility of bringing his son more steadily into his life. Honestly, Tom would have been grateful for anything more locally based. He’d spent so much of the last several years running the world over and as exciting and challenging as that had been, he’s missed the comfort and steadfastness of home and of his family. With Jaime now in his life, it would be a good time to finally, truly start putting down roots. 

Jaime appeared to be thriving in his new school. He’d made friends as easily as breathing and was consistently full of stories and ideas on his frequent calls and visits with Tom. It warmed Tom’s heart to see and hear his son doing so well. There were moments still when he could see the shadow of grief on Jaime’s face and Tom knew it was something that would take time to heal and fade. If it ever fully did.

The first weekend of October found Jaime in London with Tom, one of the first days they’d been able to plan a day trip between the boy’s school schedule and Tom’s own. His son had been a whirlwind of excitement on the drive up, asking Tom hundreds of questions about the places they passed and about their plans for the day. It would be his first proper meeting with his Gran, as he’d taken to calling Diana on the few phone calls they’d shared, and his Aunty Emma. Tom wasn’t sure who was more excited for the outing, his mother and sister or his son. 

He’d been grateful at Emma’s forethought in bringing a camera for this outing. Tom would cherish the photo she’d captured of the way Jaime’s face lit when he first laid eyes on his grandmother and the way his mother’s echoed the same for as long as he lived. He’d hugged his baby sister tightly when she’d given it to him, professionally framed, a few months later as a Christmas gift and it hung in a place of pride in his living room. 

They’d spent that day wandering around Covent Garden and, for the most part, they had been left well enough alone. A few braver fans had approached, shyly asking for autographs (which he agreed to with a smile) and photographs (which he declined). Jaime had been, thankfully, kept occupied by his aunt and grandmother though he did ask Tom if any more of his friends would be coming with them. 

Jaime had been exhausted on the drive back to Keira’s that evening and Tom had, briefly, considered insisting that Jaime stay at his overnight and then heading back the following morning. Keira wouldn’t have fought him on it, of that Tom was certain, but a quiet voice in the back of his head yelled ‘ _too soon._ ’ So he’d buckled Jaime into the backseat of the car and driven his son home. 

The day trips and visits happened with fair regularity as autumn turned to winter. Jaime enjoyed seeing the Christmas lights and decorations lining London in mid-December. And he’d been excited to finally meet Tom’s sister, her husband and their little girl, “my cousin!” he’d exclaimed when Tom had picked him up Christmas Day and driven him to Diana’s. Jaime had again babbled excitedly on the way home how he’d loved being able to meet his Auntie Sarah as well as his uncle and older cousin but that he’d been happier seeing his Gran and Auntie Emma (it was something Emma had lorded over Sarah for months after, much to Tom and Diana’s amusement). 

January saw Tom flitting about trying to hammer out his remaining unsettled commitments for the coming year and with school in full swing, the occasional weekend visit from Tom took the place of outings. And February had been just as packed for both father and son, though Tom had been thrilled to receive the handmade card from Jaime in celebration of his birthday. He’d showed it off proudly to Luke, Emma, his mum, and anyone else who’d stopped by his home long enough for him to pull it out. Benedict had laughed good-naturedly, a knowing look in his eye.

By early March Tom found himself with time on his hands once more. He’d sat then with Jaime and Keira to discuss the possibility of an overnight stay in London. Jaime brightened as understanding dawned and it had taken a fair bit of discussion with Keira to figure out the when and how of the matter. A bank holiday weekend seemed to fit the bill and once the dates were set, Jaime had been absolutely giddy, talking of nothing else. And so Tom found himself pacing the living room in anxious anticipation two weeks later, waiting for his phone to ping once more. 

Tom glanced again at the watch on his wrist and then out of the living room window. Keira had sent a text nearly half an hour before saying their train was arriving at Kings Cross. He’d insisted on going to pick them up from the station (as his initial he’d offer to drive up and pick Jaime up from Keira’s had been dismissed as unnecessary. “I’ve got plans to stay with friend up north and this would be on the way.”) but once again Keira had turned the offer down, insisting that Jaime would enjoy taking the Tube and the walk would do them both good. So he had relented, and watched the minutes tick by as he paced an ever growing groove in the floor by the living room window.

He sighed, and dropped himself onto the couch, grabbing his phone from the table beside it. This weekend had been months in the making and Tom had agonized over every last bit of it. They’d gone on countless day trips, both in and around London, but this would be the first time Jaime would be staying after. They’d spent some time in Tom’s house between activities, but never longer than a handful of hours. Yes, he had stayed with Jaime at Keira’s when she’d had an unexpected trip up north to help out her younger sister. But that had been in territory Jaime was familiar and comfortable with.

Emma had teased him mercilessly when he’d called and voiced his concerns two nights prior. All good-naturedly, but teased nonetheless. “Seriously Tom, it’s not like you haven’t done this before. It’s just on your turf this time.”

“Yes,” he’d challenged back. “It’s here and he’s never spent more than a night away from Keira’s before. What if he…”

“Tom, stop, please. You’ll give yourself grey hair worrying yourself like this. He will be fine and if he’s not, you’ll be there. You’re his dad, Tom, he trusts you.” 

He took a deep breath, running a hand through his hair (god he’d need to get it cut soon it really was getting to be a touch too long). Emma was right, he was being ridiculous. Tom let out a soft, quiet sigh. “How did you get to be so smart?”

Emma’s laugh echoed in his ear. “Sarah is an excellent role model.”

“Alright, brat,” he answered with a chuckle of his own, “I see how it is.”

“I just call it like I see it, brother mine.” They both laughed. “So just take a deep breath and run with it. You have this and you know Mum and I are only a call away if you get out of your depth.”

He ended the call, still nervous but bolstered enough to relax. And then he’d spent an inordinate amount of time straightening his already neat home. Not that he though Jaime would care overmuch, but he’d had this innate desire to show Keira he could do this. That he was ready and capable to be the father Jaime needed. The father he deserved.

And now that the house was near spotless and groceries, movies, and activities for the evening had been acquired and set into motion, all Tom could do was pace back and forth like a madman, lost in his own thoughts. It therefore came as a surprise when his mobile pinged ten minutes later. _God had it only been ten minutes?_ He glanced at the screen and found Keira’s message letting him know they’d alighted at the nearby Underground stop and were beginning to make their way towards the house. She’d verified the address with him and, when he confirmed, messaged they’d see him shortly. 

Hand buried in his hair, Tom padded towards the front door and waited for the front gate bell to ring. When it did five minutes later, he quickly buzzed them through the black metal gate lining his property and pulled the heavy wooden front door open. 

“Daddy!” Jaime squealed, breaking free of Keira’s grasp and darting towards the opened door. Tom caught him mid leap and spun the small boy around, his own face breaking into a happy grin. 

“Hey buddy.” He kissed Jaime’s head and released him, turning his attention back to Keira who was making her way up the stone path, Jaime’s small rolling case in one hand and her own larger in the other. 

Tom stepped from the house to help take Jaime’s case and invite Keira inside. She smiled warmly at him and followed him through the front door. Jaime had descended into the living room, climbing onto the sofa and talking a mile a minute about his trip. Tom smiled at the boy indulgently and turned to ask Keira if she would like a coffee or a tea.

She smiled warmly and waved him off. “I have a train to catch. But I wouldn’t say no to use of your loo.”

He’d showed her to the downstairs bathroom before padding back into the living room. Jaime pushed himself up at Tom’s re-entry and asked excitedly about the evening’s plans before transitioning into a detailed description of the movie he’d seen two nights prior that he thought Tom would love. When Keira returned several minutes later, she kissed Jaime goodbye and told him, in no nonsense terms to behave for his father and then, with a warm smile, to have fun. 

She smiled at them. “I’ll see you both Sunday evening.” And with a hand on her case, made her way out the door and into the early afternoon light. 

Tom turned back towards Jaime, who’d once again spread himself out on the sofa. “Have you had lunch yet?”

Jaime shook his head. “We had snacks on the train. But I wasn’t hungry then.”

“Are you hungry now?” Jaime nodded. “Alright.” Tom clapped his hands together. “Let’s get you fed and then we can get the afternoon started.”

Jaime bounced off the sofa and followed his father as he made his way into the kitchen. Ladened with sandwiches, crisps, and soda (“Just this once,” Tom admonished with a conspiratorial wink), the pair made their way back into the living room. They ate in companionable silence and once finished (and their dishes cleaned and put away), Tom turned and asked Jaime if he wanted to head to the park for a bit. To which the boy readily agreed. 

Appropriately bundled against the chill, father and son made their way from the house and towards the nearby park. They spent the next hour and a half wandering around before Jaime spotted the nearby playground and excitedly dashed towards it, leaving Tom near panic in his wake. 

Heart in his throat, Tom caught up with his impatient child and made his disapproval of the boy’s rash action known. “You cannot run off like that, Jaime. It’s not safe and you very nearly scared me to death. You need to stay with me when we are out and let me know when there is something you want to do. You cannot run off. Ever. Have I made myself clear?”

Lip slightly trembling, Jaime nodded. “I’m sorry.”

“I know,” Tom breathed, his heart slowing as the panic and adrenaline drained from his system. He smiled softly at Jaime. “Let’s go play for a bit now, alright?”

Jaime nodded and together they made their way into the fenced in play area. Jaime took great pleasure in climbing the metal climbing tower and then later swinging far higher than Tom was honestly comfortable with, on the nearby swing set. And when Jaime pointed at the open swing beside him, Tom didn’t hesitate to join him. 

Tom was winded by the time Jaime had had his fill. He’d not swung on a swing set in far too long and he was clearly out of practice. Hand in hand, they lumbered their way back through the park and towards home. 

A quick shower for Tom and bath for Jaime later, found both back in the living room in their pajamas. Jaime lay on his stomach on the floor, looking through the movies Tom had chosen for the planned movie marathon, his brow furrowed. The expression was so utterly Eliza that it ceased Tom’s heart. He brushed away the painful and fruitless desire the bubbled in him for this to have been a true family night. The three of them; Tom, Jaime, and Eliza preparing for an evening in after a long work week. 

Tom sighed. That was something they would never have and the knowledge of it burned. But there was nothing he could do about it, no matter how badly he wanted. Clearing his throat, he smiled warmly at his son. “Anything to your liking?”

Jaime held up a Blu-ray case and smiled. 

“Excellent choice.” Tom placed the bowl of popcorn on the coffee table and bent to take the case from Jaime. Movie set up, Tom lowered himself onto the floor beside his son, settling into the nest of blankets they’d set up for the evening. He set the volume on the television low enough so he’d be sure to hear the buzz of the gate when the pizzas he ordered arrived. 

They made it through nearly three films (and one and a half pizza’s between them) before Jaime’s eyes began to droop alarmingly. The boy had curled on his side against Tom, head half buried in the pillow he clinched tightly. Taking advantage of this, Tom gingerly pushed himself to his feet and padded towards the kitchen to put the remaining pizza into the refrigerator. He switched off the television, placing the remotes back onto the coffee table, before bending to pick his sleeping son off the floor. 

Jaime stirred and buried his head into Tom’s chest at the motion before settling back into a doze. It was a bit perilous trying to navigate his way upstairs with Jaime little more than dead weight in his arms, but somehow he’d managed. Rousing Jaime to clean his teeth was a struggle but once managed, Tom was able to get Jaime into the guest bed and settled back into sleep. He made quick work of cleaning his own teeth and climbing into bed himself. Grabbing the latest potential script he’d been sent from his bedside table, Tom settled back against the pillows behind him and read until his eyes grew heavy and sleep lulled him into her alluring grasp. 

The sound of his bedroom door creaking open startled Tom out of sleep what felt like only moments later. Soft footsteps echoed on the wooden floor as he pushed himself up, blinking in the darkness. Confusion flooded through him until belatedly understanding dawned. “Jaime?” He asked, his voice gravely with sleep. 

He heard a soft snuggling as the edge of the bed dipped and his son crawled beside him. “Can’t sleep,” he murmured, burying his face into Tom’s chest. 

“Bad dream?”

Tom felt Jaime’s head shake against his chest and waited for his son to add more. When Jaime didn’t speak after several long minutes, Tom simply wrapped his arm around the boy and let him settle quietly against him. 

He couldn’t say how long they lay there, his son curled tightly against him. The feeling blooming in his chest at the pure and simple trust Jaime has for him was near indescribable. Tom wanted to say something to the boy, offer him words of comfort and of understanding. But everything that came into his head fell woefully short. So he remained silently, gently rubbing his hand up and down Jaime’s small back. 

Time crawled by in inches as Tom watched Jaime’s breathing slow by degrees until it settled into the quiet, even rhythm of sleep. Once he was sure Jaime was out, he shifted slightly, moving the boy’s small head from his chest and onto the pillow beside him. Tom waited on bated breath as Jaime shifted, his face scrunching, and then relaxed.

Leaning his own head back against his pillow, Tom stared up at the ceiling. Every once in a while he felt Jaime shift in his sleep and he leant down, kissing his sandy hair. Tomorrow would be full of excitement; a trip to the zoo with Emma and then, if Jaime wasn’t too tired, possibly a movie at the Odeon, but for now Tom was content. He doubted he would ever reach the point where he felt completely at ease in this new role of father, but Tom knew without a doubt he wouldn’t trade any of it for the world. 


End file.
